"A blog is to a writer what a canvas is to an artist." ~ Colleen Redman

First Love

aw1b

I don’t know how art can unglue me so.  There’s nothing else like it but lovemaking.  In D.C. on Sunday I welled up with emotion at the National Gallery of Art’s Andrew Wyeth exhibit, an exhibit I had been waiting three decades to see. Finally standing in front of the vivid scenes of Wyeth’s world brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to stretch out in the spot of sunlight and open the trunk  in McVey’s Barn, take the apples from the porch in Frostbitten and put them on the empty plate in Groundhog Day, drape a favorite coat over the empty hanger on the porch in Looking Out Looking In.  I wanted to press my nose up close to the window that looked onto a another window looking onto a green field, or jump through Olsen’s Door and run in the field of wheat colored grass, trying not to trip on the bucket in Weatherside.  avboy44

In my early 20’s I fell in love with the boy wearing a coonskin hat in Faraway.  I  realize now that it was because I recognized a part of myself in him, the Davy Crockett loving girl and the future me that would come to live in the rural mountains of Virginia.  I was awakened by Wyeth’s lace curtained windows looking out onto hay fields, his barns and buckets and woodpiles.  The yellow wallpaper and the warmth of sun on the place setting in Wyeth’s Groundhog Day had a strong effect on me. It once hung in my first mother-in-laws dining room. I loved her and have loved Wyeth ever since.

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